The Rising Queen: Catherine & Mary
by Underdeveloped
Summary: Mary Stuart is just a girl. A normal peasant girl from a normal peasant family. Until her fathers debts land her indebted to work at the Castle. While serving, and lingering among the royals and nobles at French Court- Mary catches the eye of the lonely Queen- Catherine de' Medici herself. She also manages to spark hope within the people, befriend Charles Valois, and find herself.


_5/2/16-9/12/16_

 _Hello,_

 _First, I'd like to take a moment and apologize for all historical inaccuracies + grammatical errors you find within my work. Most of the errors will be related to fashion in some sense, or relationships I've twisted to fit my purpose. As this work of fiction is based upon 'Reign' and not entirely historical, I take some liberties in my writing. "If I seen it on 'Reign', it's fair game."_

 _Not every relationship will be canon, so Alternate Universe might apply here too._

 _As I stated above, the work below is based upon the characters of the television show 'Reign', and even though it has been my personal goal to create a well researched story and semi-accurate historical world this story is not meant to be a desecration to the real people the characters received their names from. This is my version of the 'Reign' universe- not a take on the historical one._

 _I make no profits from my writing, and I stake no claims to anything except for the words and ideals that are my own._

 _This work possesses topics suitable for people of the proper age- 18 & above. _

_I would also like to apologize for the length of time it has taken me to finish writing even the first chapter of my work. I wanted everything to be near perfection. I wanted to present my readers with a well researched, and realistic piece. I hope my effort shows in my writing._ _I am still in the process of learning so I can not promise that every sentence structure will be correct. I cannot promise that I will not include portions of description that my story could've gone without. But I am always open to constructive criticism and guiding voices. I do promise to give this my best shot. I do promise to leave you with a lengthy novel, with a author who stands behind it shooting for the moon._

 _I appreciate the few who responded to the teaser of this I posted. If you read the teaser, you can see that the first half of the chapter is very similar but I made changes and corrections. The reviews you beautiful souls left me truly inspired me to keep writing, and improving upon this._

 _I hope you enjoy reading this half as much as I've enjoyed writing it._

 _Thank you._

* * *

 _The Rising Queen_

* * *

 _Summary: Mary Stuart is just a girl. A normal peasant girl from a normal peasant family. Until her fathers debts land her indebted to work at the Castle. While serving, and lingering among the royals and nobles at French Court- Mary catches the eye of the lonely Queen- Catherine de' Medici herself. She also manages to spark hope within the people, teach Charles de' Valois to swim, and learn a thing or two about what it means to be a woman all while growing closer to the guarded queen of France._

* * *

 _I_

 _September fifteenth, 1557_

Sunlight spread across the land in one sweeping motion. Light illuminating every inch of the luxurious land Mary had called home for most of her life; dense thick grasses swaying gently along with the beat of the wind, the first light of dawn way up in the sky- accompanied by vibrant hues of orange dots, pink dashes, and golden swirls streaked across the proud skies of France like some royal french painter had set up his work shop way up in the sky before Mary had arrived, then packed his paints and oils back up promptly, sneaking away into the morning fog with no one the wiser.

Her wide eye'd wondrous gaze took everything in for the millionth time. It had never crossed her mind that some might find bearing witness to the re-birth of the universe boring: she was honored, and took comfort from seeing such beauty when there was little else to comfort her during the early hour of the bitter morning. Her lungs found it hard to work properly each and every time she looked upon her home, and she was sure the feeling would stay with her in years long to come. The wonderful feeling of being where you belong. The feeling of pride in what you have worked to possess.

Not that she owned the world, of course. The world seemingly owned her. But she often found herself content with being a little piece within a much larger puzzle.

The manor where their Lord resided took prominence over a majority of the land. It was a grand palace, and from her place at the top of the hill that overlooked the valley she could see the outline of every fancy stone that had been worked into the structure during its construction. Bright golden banners and flags adorned with the noble family's crest fluttered in the wind unashamed from every corner of the castle. Mary used to sit on the roof of her family's hut every night when she was a child watching the noble festivities carry on late into the evening. Wine, dancing, and fabulous gowns abound in the palace. Mary used to wish for things she could never have while she watched the wealthy entertain themselves.

She'd be foolish to wish now.

Then her eyes fell upon the large, cast-iron gate that separated 'them' from her people. The gate was a hideous sight: both physically, in what it represented. A barrier between the classes. The thought threatened to make her ill- and with the shortage of food within the village she couldn't afford to lose her breakfast. Mary averted her gaze to the small market-place her people had constructed off to the side of the main castle instead. There were entertainment venues meant for days of leisure, vendors with carts selling their wares and fabrics to passing by commoners, and slave traders. She didn't much like to think about the slave traders either.

Her village fell towards the back of the valley, but it was of equal beauty as the more eye-catching sights her village offered in her eyes. It wasn't much of a bewitching sight she would admit. Only composed of a small cluster of houses, farming land, and small independently run shops. Mary loved it just the same however. She wasn't born a royal, after all. Why would she ever need to step foot inside a castles walls? Here, Mary was free to grow into a woman at her own pace.

Her daydreams were slashed away by the sharpness reality often tended to bring along with it. The morning air offered no respite to her already chilled, damp skin today. The tunic she'd selected for the day left the majority of her arms, along with most of her legs exposed. Her fair skin was covered with the small bumps the cold brought. When she ran her hands cross the flesh of her arms in an feeble attempt at warming herself she could feel the small grains of dirt that covered her from days past. There had been a shortage of bathing privileges as well this month.

Even though the soil beneath her feet was rich, and soft under her bare feet- her toes would probably never recover from their frozen state. The damp morning dew that covered the tall grass around her did nothing but further drench the edge of her tunic. But she could not return home now.

It was too late for that even though she was cold, tired, and he was taking so very long. This was a state she was accustomed to being in every other day of the week. Why complain now?

Mary did not mind waking up at obscure hours of the morning to begin her daily chores, she devoted her entire being to her work while the rest of the youths of the village lounged around in barns and joked around in the streets. Sunday belonged to her though, and here she was- dragged out of her sleep before dawn on the only day of the week she got to relax her aching bones. She hoped her sacrifice would be worth it though. Plus she didn't think she could make it back up the hill again. The first time had been rough enough, and had taken most of the strength she had left. This morning had been the first food she'd seen in nearly a week, and the small bit of porridge she'd helped herself to from Uncle Hayden's bowl hadn't been enough to do much of anything for her body.

Papa had promised to take her to the market today though.

There would be food at the market ripe for the taking if it came down to it. Mary detested stealing, but her family had nothing to trade during these harsh months. She always made sure she reimbursed the vendors with her labor later, and usually they turned a blind eye to her small acts of thievery. She hadn't had to fight the rest of her family to go on the lengthy walk to the market with papa. They would've came to blows with her for the position if they knew she'd have bread in her stomach come nightfall.

The hunger pains could be unbearable at times. They could drive one mad if you let them get to you. She'd seen too many fall to the horror that was starvation since she'd been old enough to truly understand the concept of death. It was not a fate she would let befall her.

Mary was as impatient as they came. Her father had saw it fit to request she be early while he took his time like some kind of King. The Scottish temper she held inside her spirit was always quick to flare up with or without her consent and she found herself pacing restlessly among the weeds while she waited for her father to step out of their hut.

She honestly didn't mind her family. Papa never bothered with her much- mostly left her to her own thoughts, and never complained if she dragged behind a bit when they worked the fields for their lord. He was a good enough man: if you looked beyond the rugged surface. He tended to smell of day old stew, sweat, and urine- so the lack of fatherly talks, and leisurely sits upon his knee were just fine with her. But she did hold a special place in her heart for him there was no doubt of that.

Her mother had died courageously among the soldiers who fought strongly against the British at the Battle of Solway Moss in Scotland while she worked to save the lives of the Scottish men who were wounded as an unofficial military medical nurse only fourteen days after Mary had been born. She had never known the woman who brought her into the world and it saddened her immensely most days. Some days she longed for a guiding hand more than others, but she was managing the hardships of being a woman in a mans world smoothly on her own so far.

Now there was just her, papa, her aunt and uncle, and her cousin- Marcus. She'd lived with them here her whole life. Her aunt Louisa had helped raise her. They were family- no matter the state of their hygiene.

She would help papa in his duty to their lord, and work on a day she'd been promised to have for relaxation and worship. She would feed her family as well. It would be worth it, Mary told herself over and over inside her own head as she tried her best to keep her breakfast down, and her head held high while she waited for papa to step from the front door of their hut.

For some unknown reason a feeling came over her that would not go away, Mary Stuart felt like she was lying to herself.

But she pushed it down, and averted her warm brown eyes away from her home- back towards the horizon of France.

Things would be just fine. They had to be.

And if they weren't..well..Mary wouldn't have to worry about the pain in her stomach any longer, or who was going to get little Marcus his supper.

She supposed the dead didn't have such troubles to think of at all.

Sometimes she wished for that peace to find her. But her plight was long from over and some foreign feeling that had also rooted itself deep into her very soul knew that she was destined for a long road ahead. Mary couldn't fight her mixed and jumbled feelings away while she stood watch, looking regally down upon her homeland.

She was free and there was a new dawn ahead. One that promised much success and good fortune. She was sure of that.

Mary Stuart was feeling good, a bright new smile upon her lips, gazing up at the sun.

* * *

The lock clicked firmly into place the first time.

The damn thing had been giving him trouble as of late. There wasn't much to steal in the little house, but what was his, was his own. He'd be damned straight to hell before a man couldn't check the lock on his own front door.

That was the first act James Stuart committed when he stepped out of his home. When he noticed a stray hair that had fallen into his face in his rush to get out the door, his second thought was to gather spit in his mouth and collect it in the palm of his calloused hand. Then he slicked his hair back from his forehead into its proper place. Next, he took his time about straightening out his trousers. They weren't quite sitting straight on his bulky hips today for some odd reason.

After he'd adjusted his tunic and trousers, he calmly lumbered across his front yard. Only when he'd gotten halfway across the road from his home, did James' feel the hair on the back of his neck stand straight up. Turning around, James met the fierce brown eyes of his only daughter. He'd nearly forgotten about Mary.

She was standing there, upon the hill next to their house where he often caught her lingering after a long day of work. She'd braided her long, raven curly hair into a braid that was slung casually over her right shoulder. Her face was free of the make-up women of higher born rank than his Mary could afford, but she was every bit as beautiful. Naturally fair skinned, plump ruby lips, and her mothers big dark eyes surrounded by thick lashes that made a mans' heart swoon when she turned her head their way. Just like her mother had done for him so long ago. During better times.

She had her head held high, with her arms wrapped around her slim frame. She looked to be freezing.

James had forgotten he'd left her waiting for so long. He didn't know how he could've forgotten Mary. She was his reason for walking to the Marketplace at all. She'd dressed herself nicely as well. A short tunic that left her arms, and her calves exposed. It worked in his favor. The act he'd be forced to commit today was one of the hardest things James had ever been faced against. But his Mary was his only salvation. He prayed she'd understand, and perhaps one day forgive him for his faults.

"Mary, over here, girl," James bellowed across the fields. The slight tilt of his daughters head was the only indication he received that she'd indeed heard his call. Calmly, Mary collected the edge of her tunic and strode down the hill all with her head held high. James thought his daughter looked fit to be a Queen some days. He swore the stork that had landed his Mary with him had dropped her in the wrong arms. When his eyes found his daughter now, it was not a hard task to imagine a golden crown situated delicately upon her curls.

She walked up to him calmly, and wrapped one arm through his.

"Good morning, Papa," Mary remarked casually as they began their long walk to the market in perfect tandem.

James had never been a man of many words, but he owed her this small conversation on this day. He would speak. He would make her feel the love he held in his heart for his only child. His daughter. His Mary.

"Good morning, Mary," James nodded to her while he turned to look her over. Her smile was bright, and her eyes lit up as they walked along the dirt pathway. She wore no shoes this morning. There had not been enough coin to afford a pair of slippers for Mary this year. Every once in a while she'd bite her lip when a particularly sharp rock bit into her dainty foot. James tried his best to ignore her discomfort as he noticed the lacing of the pair of new boots he wore dragging along the dirt. He didn't dare stop their journey to fix his boots.

"Did you enjoy the porridge this morning?" Mary asked from his shoulder, bright and cheery.

"I did."

"Louisa took care with its preparations. I even helped, papa," Mary explained. Louisa didn't often let Mary help when it came to fixing food or warming baths. But Mary still had a general idea how to prepare a household.

"It's good you're beginning to learn the ways of a woman, Mary," James spoke boldly. "You're in fact quite a woman now."

"Only sixteen," Mary mumbled quietly. "Not a woman yet."

"Some would say you're becoming an old bat, y'know," James smirked- fighting the natural laugh that threatened to rumble from his chest at the playful banter he'd wished they'd known all along. "We should have you betrothed by now!"

He'd said it jokingly, but he could tell the subject was not a welcomed one. His daughter tensed, and drew her arm from his.

"Not quite yet," she recovered brightly.

But the walk just wasn't the same after that. They completed their journey in silence.

James liked that. He was free to study his daughter in their last moments together before she'd be carted off to God knows where.

* * *

 _Breaking the chapters up so they won't be too lengthy, and so I can have breaks on my muse. II will contain the marketplace, Mary's forced departure, and her arrival at French Court. Reviews are love._


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